


Glow

by DeCarabas



Series: Fugitives Together [13]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Act 2, Blue Hawke, Justice Positive, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeCarabas/pseuds/DeCarabas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke’s always wondered what it would be like to sleep with another mage; wondered if it was just him, the way it was as easy to reach out with mana as with hands.</p><p>The first night at the estate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glow

Hawke’s always wondered what it would be like to sleep with another mage; wondered if it was just him, the way it was as easy to reach out with mana as with hands, the way the weight of his power around him became a palpable thing, as worked up as the rest of him, potential coiled up and aching to be channeled through him, to touch. As stirred up by this as by any other emotion, as hard to hold back, and maybe it’s a sign his control needs work.

Hazard of life outside the Circle; he hadn’t exactly had a lot of people to compare notes with on this. Maybe it’s just him. But maybe it isn’t, and some nights he’s called lightning to arc between his own fingers, imagining Anders’ fingers, his power that might taste a little like this beneath all that tightly held self-control. Electricity tricks.

And that power’s at his fingertips now, restless.

“When I was in the Circle, love was only a game. It gave the templars too much power if there was something you couldn’t stand to lose. …It would kill me to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me.” Fervent. Wishing he could erase everything the Circle’s ever done to Anders.

But when Anders lays a tentative hand along his cheek, the motion is echoed by light skating over his skin, reaching out with mana as well as hands, and Hawke’s heart leaps. And he sighs into the kiss with the sheer relief of it.

And Anders wears so many layers and an obscene amount of buckles, but then he’s stretched out beside him, pale skin against red sheets. And for a moment Hawke’s convinced that if he closes his eyes this will all disappear, this will turn out to be the Fade, he’ll open his eyes again to find something purple and horned instead—and he’s not going to make any desire demon possession jokes, bad idea, terrible idea, he’s already mentally apologizing to Justice for the thought, but he smothers a laugh against the side of Anders’ throat because _three years of wanting_. Until Anders pulls him back up with an answering smile, thumbs sliding over his cheekbones and into his hair and kisses him again, slow. Reverent.

Anders’ eyes are still closed a moment after they part, lips parted. And then he opens his eyes, looks at Hawke, and licks his lips.

And Hawke maps the skin over Anders’ collarbone with fingers and tongue, the spray of freckles, Anders’ hands tangling in his hair, sliding along his shoulders, his sides, like he’s trying to make up for three years of holding himself apart all at once, hard and arching into Hawke’s grip when he gets a hand between them. And the power uncurling around him is so thick he thinks he could drink it in, could get drunk on it, and he can’t tell where his ends and Anders’ begins. Tendrils of force dragging against him and sparking into light. Nothing at all like he’d imagined, nothing like his little attempts at electricity tricks; Anders feels like he has the Fade entire barely contained, heady and overwhelming, pulling at his own power and swallowing it whole, and of course, of course, this is what Anders’ magic would taste like. And Hawke’s only a little surprised when a slash of blue appears right under his lips, skitters across Anders’ throat and vanishes again.

He hesitates. “Hey.” And Anders looks at him dark-eyed and flushed, and Hawke swallows. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Anders says, and, “Yes.” And his fingers tighten in Hawke’s hair, and he pulls Hawke’s lips to his. And when he draws back there’s a swirl of blue light across Anders’ eyes, and Hawke catches his breath. Looks down at the blue lines splintering under his touch.

Anders’ hand on his cheek pulls his gaze back up, makes him meet blue eyes.

“It’s still me.” And there’s an echo of a second, deeper voice, and Anders has gone very still. He closes his eyes. Tries again. “It’s still—” His voice wavers, like he’s trying to force the echo from his voice, and Hawke shakes his head, catches his hand before he can draw away.

“Hey. No. It’s all right, you don’t have to hold back with me.”

And Anders’ eyes fly open again, blue and swirling light, searching, and Hawke’s not sure Anders is breathing. Blue cracks under his fingertips and the Fade beating at his skin so palpable Hawke could drown in it, and yet Anders looks fragile. And Hawke rests his forehead against his.

“Maker, if you could see yourself like this,” Hawke murmurs.

He presses his lips to the light flickering at the corner of Anders’ jaw, the sharp, cold taste of it. Savoring the choked sound Anders makes. Or Justice makes. Whichever. He doesn’t pretend to understand it. But the intensity of the gaze on him makes him shiver, and Anders is moving with purpose, a hand wrapped around his cock, strong and sure.

“ _Three years_ ,” he says against Anders’ skin, and Anders laughs in two voices at once, short, startling, and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Anders laugh before. It’s good.

And soon Anders’ breath is hitching, and he shudders beneath Hawke’s hands, and Hawke isn’t far behind, a twist of Anders’ wrist and a swirl of light, of Fade energy humming between them, and his teeth against Anders’ throat.

And he finds himself looking into wide, wondering brown eyes. “Was that—” Anders says, breathless. A hand coming up to cup his cheek. “With Justice—that’s all right? You—”

And Hawke puts a hand over Anders’, turns his head to kiss his palm, tasting the last lingering traces of magic ebbing around him.


End file.
